


A Meeting Of The Neuroses

by celli, out_there



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-17
Updated: 2008-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli, https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Casey finds out about Dan’s panic attacks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Meeting Of The Neuroses

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/) for betaing (and being just as harsh as we needed her to be). Set post-S2.

The importance of good food couldn't be ignored. Especially not in the cutthroat world of sports broadcasting, where sports anchors were expected to be at the top of their game.

Casey was on a hunt, scavenging through the craft services table, searching for his prey: a good piece of fruit. He scowled at the food table as he rejected under-ripe oranges and brown, softening bananas. Then he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning around, Casey observed Dan slip out the door to the internal stairs.

It was odd for a couple of reasons. First of all, no one used the internal stairs. That was the advantage of working on the forty-ninth floor -- there were good elevators. Secondly, the way Dan was moving -- urgent and hurried, head bowed -- wasn't normal, even for the strained value of normal that existed at Sports Night. Thirdly, the apples were bruised. That didn't have anything to do with Dan disappearing down the staircase, but it left Casey with no good reason to stand at the craft services table.

Taking a few quick strides, Casey hurried over to the other side of the studio and followed Dan down the proverbial rabbit hole. The door to the floor beneath him slammed closed, and Casey jerked it back open just in time to see Dan disappear down the corridor and turn left.

He traced over Dan's steps, and found Dan had gone into the men's bathroom. Casey could only think of two explanations for Dan going to another floor's bathroom: either the bathroom was made of marble, or Dan had scheduled some secret rendezvous with one of his many supposed stalkers. Even then, it didn't justify him using the stairs.

When Casey looked inside, the bathroom appeared empty, ruling out one possible reason. It was identical to the one on the floor above, the same gleaming metal and white porcelain, which ruled out reason number two. There would be a reason for it -- Dan always had some insane rationale for his behavior -- but Casey couldn't see it.

Shrugging, Casey stepped inside and recognized the sound of someone being sick. It was like college all over again, hearing his roommate throw up after a night of heavy drinking. (Or eating one of the dubious cafeteria sandwiches.)

"Dan?" Apart from one closed door, the stalls were empty. There was a muffled groan from behind the closed door, and then someone vomited again. Casey rapped on the door. "Danny?"

There was a moment of quiet, and Casey leaned against the stall door, waiting.

"I'll see you upstairs, Casey," Dan said. His cheer sounded forced, a little too bright for someone who'd just finished throwing up.

"Are you going to be okay?" Casey asked over the whoosh of flushing water.

"Yes, now go."

He ignored the grumpy tone. Dan was never pleasant when he was sick. "Was it the seafood you had for lunch? I told you it looked suspicious."

"The seafood was fine. I'm fine. I don't need you to baby-sit."

"I'm not babysitting. I'm making sure you're okay." The lock rattled and Casey stepped back as the door swung open. Dan looked pale and cranky, throwing large doubts on his claims of being fine. "You're not okay."

"I'm okay. See?"

"You just threw up. That's not okay," Casey said patiently, stepping inside the small stall. "That's a pretty good sign that you need to go home, and Dana needs to find a replacement for tonight."

"Don't overreact," Dan snapped. "Look for yourself. All reports say I'm fine."

Casey took a good look. If anything, Dan looked slightly worse. Paler, and slightly queasy, then slightly panicked as he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet bowl and threw up again.

It was second nature for Casey to crouch beside Dan and run his hand over Dan's back. Like holding the bowl for Charlie when he was sick, or holding Lisa's hair back when they were much younger. Automatic reaction.

When Dan stopped, he gulped a breath and then rested his head against the cool porcelain. Casey passed him some toilet paper and tried not to breathe in the distinct smell of vomit. "Better?"

Dan nodded and wiped his mouth, then threw it down.

Standing up, Casey flushed the toilet again and helped Dan to his feet. "Now will you go home? Food poisoning's not a fun thing. Trust me, I know from personal experience."

"It's not food poisoning."

Watching him skeptically, Casey said, "Well, if it's a bug, I'm probably next in line to get it, but all the same. You'll feel better at home."

Dan glared at him. "I'm not going home. I'll be fine tonight."

"You won't be fine. In case you didn't notice, you just threw up."

"I threw up." Dan pushed past him and stopped in the middle of the bathroom. He turned around, setting a hand on his hip. "It's not the end of the world."

Casey rolled his eyes at Dan's stubborn streak (it was roughly the size of the Grand Canyon). "There are times when the world expects you to be manly, and play through the pain. This isn't one of them. Go home, rest, get better."

"I don't need to go home," Dan said with a short wave of his hand. "I need to go back to our office, close the door, and finish my script."

"It won't help," Casey said, and he felt as if he was talking to a young Charlie. Even Charlie wasn't this stubborn. "In a few hours time, you'll probably feel like you want to die. Food poisoning? Is a miserable experience. Go home, Danny, and sleep through as much of it as you can."

"I've been doing this for years. I'll be fine."

"Just because you've done the show for years doesn't mean you can do it while sick. Especially not if you have to run off in the middle of broadcast to throw up."

Dan set his jaw. "I wasn't talking about the show."

"So, what? You've been coming down with food poisoning for years?" Casey scoffed. "Because if so, it's probably a sign you should stop ordering the suspicious seafood."

"I don't have food poisoning. I threw up."

Casey snorted in disbelief. "And you've been throwing up for years?"

"Well..." Dan shrugged, biting his lip. "Yeah."

"I've known you for over a decade. If that were true, I'd know about it. Stop being such a masochist and admit that you..." Casey trailed off at the uncomfortable expression in Dan's eyes.

"I never told you," Dan said with an uncertain grin, and Casey had a growing dread that Dan was actually telling the truth. Dan sounded too nonchalant, as if they were discussing what they'd studied in high school. "That's why you don't know."

"You've been doing this for *years*, and you never told me?"

"What's to tell?" Dan shrugged, not quite casual enough to be convincing. "I get nervous sometimes. It's not a big deal."

"It's not a big deal?"

"It's like stage fright without the stage." Tired, Casey realized, Dan looked tired. Like this was a conversation he'd considered many times, and it had never ended well inside his head. "Natalie booted in a fairly spectacular way before our first show and no one's up in arms about that."

"Because we were too distracted by Dana's flying cigarette and the way it nearly singed your eyebrow. And this? This has been happening for years." Casey was furious. "It sure as hell isn't normal."

"Normal?" Dan slid a hand down the thigh of his jeans, pressing his palm against the worn denim. He spoke slowly and carefully. "I'm not normal?"

"That isn't what--" Casey broke off with an impatient sigh. "You know that isn't what I meant."

"Oh, I think it is what you meant." Dan's face was turning red.

"Did I say that?"

"Yeah. You kinda did." Between the white basins and the powder grey columns of stalls, there wasn't enough room for Dan to walk off in a huff. That didn't stop him from taking a few angry steps across the room. "Go away, Casey."

"No," Casey replied, planting his feet firmly on the tiles. "This is not an everyday thing. It's not like losing your car keys, or being afraid of lumber sports. It's a big deal. People don't just... people don't just throw up for no reason."

Dan sighed and rested his forehead against the stall door. His voice was resigned, defeated. "It's not for no reason. It's called a panic attack. I can give you some pamphlets on it, if you want."

"There are pamphlets?" Casey winced at the harsh sarcasm in his own voice.

"There are textbooks. *Ab*normal psychology."

Casey narrowed his eyes. "I didn't mean it that way, Danny."

"It doesn't matter."

Casey sighed and dropped his head. "It matters to me. It matters that you didn't tell me. This isn't... It's not... You should have told me."

"I couldn't." Casey half-turned to leave and Dan reached out to grab him. "No, I mean I literally couldn't. I wouldn't have told Abby, except she kind of guessed it. It's not the type of thing you tell people."

"I'm your best friend. You should have been able to..." Casey trailed off, running a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath through clenched teeth and tried to let it go. Tried very, very hard. "So tell me about it now."

"Now?" Dan's eyebrows shot up. "Like, now now? Standing in the 48th floor men's bathroom?"

Casey looked around at the deserted bathroom. "Yeah, now."

"Um. Okay." Dan turned on the faucet and rinsed his mouth out. Casey was taken aback by the ease of his actions, as if he did this on a daily basis. "I have a mint in here somewhere..." he said, digging into his jeans pocket. "Anyway. I didn't even know the word for it until Abby gave me a book, or that other people had it. I thought it was just me."

Casey pulled a packet of Tic-Tacs out of his pocket. "Here," he said, handing them to Dan.

"Thanks." Their fingers brushed as Dan took the box, and his eyes slid up to Casey's. "Thanks," he said again.

Casey shrugged and dropped his eyes to Dan's hands. "So, what is it?"

"Panic--uh. See, psychiatrists think--" Dan stopped, took a deep breath, fished the Tic-Tac out, and took another. "Sometimes people freak me out."

"People freak you out," Casey repeated carefully, watching Dan's long fingers fidget with the plastic box.

"There's no reason for it, not really. I'll just be in the middle of a conversation, and however many people are in the room, it's too many."

"Does it..." Casey wet his lips and tried again. "Does it happen a lot?"

"Not a *lot*," Dan told the Tic-Tac box. "And not nearly as much as it used to."

Casey nodded. "Does it always happen here?"

Dan shook his head. "It happens anywhere. Anywhere there's people."

Casey took the Tic-Tac packet back from Dan, carefully returning it to his pocket. "Does it happen around me?"

"Casey."

"I want to know. I want to know if I'm..." Casey shrugged, letting his gaze wander over the shiny tap handles and white ceramic sinks. "I want to know if I'm one of those people who freak you out."

"It's not like that."

Casey frowned. "It sounds just like that."

"Well, it's not," Dan said emphatically. He huffed out an impatient sigh and rolled his shoulders. "See? This is why you never should have found out."

"Well, I never should have *found* out because you should have told me," Casey shot back cuttingly.

"I didn't want you to know!" Dan didn't even seem to notice that Casey jerked back half a step. "I didn't want you wondering what was wrong with me every time I left the room, or directing conversations so nobody said anything bad around me. And I really didn't want you second-guessing yourself. Because it's not you, it's not Natalie or Jeremy or Isaac or anyone." He had his arms crossed and his back to the sink, and was about as folded in on himself as he could be and remain standing. "This is my problem. Just me. Okay?"

"It affects more than just you," Casey said, and knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth. He spoke quickly, trying to explain before Dan had a chance to interrupt. "We're your friends. We're not going to suddenly change. We're not going to be any less annoying or freakish just because you have this thing. If it doesn't change who you are, it's sure as hell not going to change us. And, yeah, maybe we'd be walking on eggshells for a while, but..."

"No. Nobody else is going to behave differently because we're not telling them. You're not going to behave differently because this entire conversation never happened." Dan brushed past him and had one hand on the door when Casey grabbed him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Danny. This isn't something you can pretend just doesn't happen."

Dan laughed, but his eyes were hard. "Watch me."

Casey's fingers tightened on Dan's arm, digging into the muscle. "I'm not going to pretend it doesn't happen."

Dan's hand covered his, not pulling it away, just lying there. "Don't do this."

"I..." Casey started, and then stopped when Dan's fingers tensed imperceptibly. "It's the type of thing friends should know. And if I worry about you, I worry about you. It's not..." Casey sighed, watching the wary shadows in Dan's eyes. "I worry about you anyway. This is just... a new focus of worry. Same amount of worry, different direction."

Dan broke into, wonder of wonders, a genuine smile. "You're practicing conservation of worry?"

"I worry that you'll get caught in traffic. I worry that some day you'll really annoy the network and won't be able to charm your way out of it. I worry that you'll get struck by lightning the next time you go golfing." Dan snorted and Casey lightened his grip on Dan's arm. "You've got to understand, Danny. I've got four main categories of worry. Firstly, there are worries about me, my job, about... everything Casey-related. Secondly, there are worries about the world, about humanity in general and the fact that people are fundamentally idiots. Thirdly, there are worries about Charlie, and then finally, there are worries about you. There is nothing you can do that will make me stop worrying about you."

"Because I'm just that screwed up and in need of--" Casey let his inner-Natalie out and smacked Dan with his free hand. Dan grimaced for a moment but Casey could see the grin in his eyes. "Ow! I get it, I get it. Worry away."

"Because I care about you. And care and worry go hand-in-hand." Casey grinned when Dan shot a quick look down at their linked hands. "You should tell me about this kind of stuff, just so I don't worry about the little stuff so much."

"Yeah," Dan said, sounding more abashed than reassured.

"So you get panic attacks," Casey said and smiled gently. "It just means I'll stop worrying about you growing a goatee."

"I still think it would give our ratings--"

"You are not growing a goatee. I am not presenting the highlights next to Col. Saunders."

"You're a man of no imagination," Dan said. Casey was busy composing a retort when he realized that Dan's thumb was rubbing across the back of his hand, barely noticeable enough to be a caress.

Casey swallowed, leaning closer. "I have plenty of imagination." A small part of Casey was flailing its arms and pointing out that he was flirting. With Danny. The rest of him was too surprised to panic.

Because he was flirting with Dan, who definitely did not have legs like Sally's, or curves like Dana, but other very Dan-like, definitely male attributes. And, unless Casey was reading every signal wrong, Dan was flirting back.

"Prove it," Dan said, and stretched forward until his lips met Casey's.

Pressing forward, Casey made the tentative touch firmer. He tried to ignore the way his heart was pounding in his chest, and the way his palms were suddenly sweating. (Was this how Dan felt during a panic attack?) He settled a hand on Dan's hip, cautious still. It didn't bring the Apocalypse, and Dan didn't punch him or run for the hills or do any of the things that suggested Casey had lost his mind. He just grinned against Casey's mouth. The best grin ever. So Casey grew bolder, ran his tongue over Dan's teasing grin and licked his way inside.

Dan moaned and moved closer. Casey liked the moan even more than the grin.

They were closer now; Casey hadn't noticed it happen, but close was good. Dan's hands were settling on him, one on his waist, fingers digging into his back as if Dan were making sure Casey wouldn't run -- he wouldn't -- and the other, hesitating a fraction, resting against the side of Casey's face.

Casey's hand followed Dan's right hand downwards, sliding down Dan's arm, tracing the shirt seam like the spine of his favourite book, drifting like lines sliding over a teleprompter screen. He tilted his head back and made the kiss deeper, stronger. More.

His fingers moved on, brushing down the front of Dan's shirt. He could feel fluttering muscle -- Dan's stomach -- and he wanted more of this, too. When Dan gasped, the sound vibrating through Casey's fingers, he pulled back to look at Dan.

"Imaginative enough?" he asked, an echo of Dan's grin in his tone.

"Huh?" The look on Dan's face was very satisfyingly dazed. He licked his lips once, then twice, and Casey found himself with some seriously imaginative thoughts, most requiring more room than the floor of the men's bathroom would allow. "What was the question?"

Dan's hands wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and this time there wasn't any hesitation. There was just kissing Dan, his tongue sliding against Dan's, tracing the roof of his warm mouth. It seemed simple, easy, and Casey wondered why he was only finding out about this now.

Wondered why he hadn't been doing this for *years*.

Dan's fingers grabbed onto the back of his neck and scraped across his shoulder blades, looking for purchase or maybe clinging in desperation. The collar bunched awkwardly against Casey's neck as Dan dragged him closer.

For his part, Casey was too distracted to care that his shirt was being pulled out of shape. He was far too distracted by Dan's hungry mouth and talented tongue; by the faint burn of stubble along the curve of Dan's jaw. By the solid pressure of Dan's body trapped against the door and shifting against him. Casey experimented, leaning into Dan as he pushed Dan's shirt and t-shirt both up, sliding under the warm material to the warmer skin beneath. He pressed his hands flat against Dan's stomach and then up over his ribcage.

"Your hands are cold," Dan said breathlessly, and Casey pushed his hands up higher, catching Dan's nipples between chilled fingers and pinching lightly. Dan gasped, leaning his head back against the heavy door. It made Dan's neck easy to kiss, so Casey bent his head and traced Dan's pulse down to his collarbone. He kept his hands on Dan's chest, needing the feel of Dan's skin against his palms. He traced over Dan's ribcage, running his fingers along the edges of bone and muscle and brushed casually over Dan's sensitized nipples. He mapped out Dan's skin by Dan's gasps and strangled groans.

"Dan," Casey said, loving the way Dan's skin muffled his voice a little, "do a lot of people use this restroom?"

"Um, no." One of Dan's hands slid up into Casey's hair. "That's why--that's why I come here, because it's quiet."

"Okay. Well, we have two choices. We can go upstairs, do our show, and pick this up at midnight."

"Or?" Dan asked, then made a strangled sound as Casey sank his teeth into his shoulder.

"Or we can take care of things before the show."

"Right here?"

"Right here."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"Oh, I'm voting for sex," Dan said, and then both of them were laughing even as they reached for each other's clothes.

Casey pulled away from Dan and gulped in some desperately needed air while he tugged at the buttons on his shirt. He got it open and half off Dan's shoulders while Dan was still struggling with the top button of his shirt. "You're behind, Danny."

"Oh, shut up," Dan said, poking him in the chest. "These buttons are possessed."

"My shirt is not possessed," Casey said.

Dan pulled back, squinting at Casey's buttons as he tried to undo them. "These buttons are far too smmph-"

Casey cut him off with a kiss, pushing the black cotton of Dan's t-shirt up his chest and leaning closer. Dan made a muffled noise that could have been "Casey," or "hurry," and either way, Casey was happy to oblige.

He dropped to his knees. Dan was still holding the front of his shirt, and the sound of the top two buttons popping out made them both start. Casey buried his face in the warm skin of Dan's stomach, nosing the shirt out of the way when it fell back down. It tickled.

He smothered his laughter against Dan, making Dan gasp and clutch the back of Casey's neck in response. Pushing the material back with one hand, Casey drew wet circles across the soft skin, slowly working down.

"Casey," Dan sighed. When Casey looked up, Dan's eyes were lidded and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. Casey hooked his fingers under Dan's jeans and pulled them down slightly, exposing another inch of skin. Holding Dan's eyes, he licked just above the denim waistband, and then bit down lightly. Dan hissed and shut his eyes.

Dan, Casey learned, had button-fly jeans. He slid a finger between two of the buttons, bracing himself when Dan shuddered against him.

The bottom button gave him some trouble, and he swore. "See?" Dan said above him, his voice shaking. "Not so easy."

"Shut up," Casey said cheerfully, and yanked jeans and boxer-briefs down together.

Casey sat back on his heels, just looking at Dan. There was something very appealing about Dan half-dressed. Really, it should have been ridiculous; a grown man standing with his jeans around his knees, his t-shirt pushed half-way up his chest, and that red shirt hanging open, slipping down Dan's shoulders. But Dan made it work.

He got a little distracted by staring, running his eyes over Dan's bare skin, the reddened area on Dan's stomach, the light outline of teeth marks. The flushed cock, standing to attention. He licked his lips.

"Know what you're doing there, Casey?" Dan smirked down at him with a teasing, hungry grin.

Casey tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes dangerously. "I'm sure I can figure it out." Casey shifted forward, sucking a kiss against the curve of Dan's hipbone. "I mean, it's a pretty simple act, right?"

"I'd say so. I mean, there are some complexities..." Dan's voice rose as Casey edged across, but he took a deep breath and continued. "And there is a certain amount of skill, a certain amount of technique, involved..." Dan said breathily while Casey rubbed his cheek along the length of Dan's cock.

"But, basically, it's just an application of lips," Casey said and emphasized his point by pressing a chaste kiss against the side of Dan's cock. "And tongue," he said huskily, using his tongue to trace a vein up and over the tip. Dan's strangled groan seemed to echo in the empty bathroom. "And suction," he growled, and then sucked the head of Dan's cock into his mouth.

His own cock throbbed at the sound Dan made; he tried to ignore it and focus on what he was doing instead. He slid his hands up Dan's legs to his hips, feeling the muscles flex under the skin in counterpoint to the rhythm of his mouth. He flexed his fingers, digging harder than he probably should.

He slid his gaze up. Dan had dropped his head to his chest. His mouth was open, gulping in air, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Casey swallowed involuntarily at the sight. Dan groaned.

One of Dan's hands groped blindly along Casey's arm, and Casey let go to grab it. He braced their joined hands against Dan's hip and picked up the pace.

Dan's breath came faster. Some small part of Casey's brain was grateful for it, because he was running out of things to try. At least, things to try in a Quo Vadimus-owned restroom. He swallowed again, and Dan's hand clenched painfully around his as he came.

Casey's next discovery about blowjobs was that swallowing wasn't quite as easy as it looked, and he mentally apologized to some of the women in his life as he wiped his mouth.

Dan slid down the door, collapsing in a satiated heap next to Casey, who was still on his knees. Dan leaned his head back and blinked lazily at Casey.

Casey grinned, and ran his thumb over Dan's satisfied smile. "See? Not too complex." Casey followed the bob of Dan's Adam's apple as he swallowed.

"I've got no complaints." Casey had to chuckle at the pleased expression on Dan's face. Dan watched him with soft eyes and a relaxed grin. "What's so funny?"

Casey bit his lip and shook his head.

"Does sex always make you cryptic?"

Casey snorted. "Not that I've noticed."

"Then how come you're laughing at me?"

That smile was just too irresistible. Casey leaned in. "Because," he said, pressing his lips to Dan's between words, "you're. So. Happy." Dan grabbed him on the last word, turning a chaste kiss into something decidedly more carnal. By the time he let go, Casey was holding onto him for support.

"Let me make you happy, too," Dan said.

Casey's knees gave up on him entirely, and he sat down hard. "Okay," he said dumbly. "Um...okay."

"So eloquent," Dan teased warmly, and leaned towards Casey. Dan's grin was feral under the harsh lights. Casey licked his lips in anticipation of a kiss, but Dan ducked his head and licked a wet trail down Casey's collarbone.

Casey pressed a hand on the cool tile behind him and leaned back, fumbling with the last button on his shirt as Dan's tongue traced circles down his chest. Dan was right. These buttons were far too small.

"Getting impatient?" Dan muttered against his skin. Casey didn't have a reply, but even if he had, it would have been obliterated by Dan's teeth closing around his nipple slowly. Dan's teeth were sharp, and his lips felt almost too soft in comparison.

"Danny..." he groaned, clutching Dan's arm with his free hand. Dan's eyes glittered darkly and he just sucked harder, making Casey moan.

Casey was so focused on Dan's mouth, it took a second to register the movement of Dan's hand to his waist and lower. Dan pressed his hand against Casey's cock at the same time he bit down on his nipple again. Casey groaned. He arched up, nearly banging his head against the side of the nearest stall.

"Careful," Dan said, nuzzling his way across Casey's chest. "You don't want to knock yourself unconscious before I'm done."

"But after's okay?"

"Personally, I wouldn't suggest knocking yourself unconscious at any time."

"Duly noted," Casey replied with a grin, leaning back until he was lying on the floor. He dragged one hand away from Dan to put it under his head.

Dan undid Casey's belt easily, but his mouth stayed right where it was, paying extravagant -- even undue -- attention to Casey's sternum. Casey liked his chest. He was glad Dan liked it too. But other body parts of his were in need of attention. A lot of attention.

Casey stretched back against the floor. The tiles were hard against his back and the cold seeped through the thin material of his shirt, but he was too distracted by the movement of Dan's mouth to care. Or to be more precise, the lack of movement. Dan's hand was trailing over his stomach, drifting down to pull his fly down a little, and then running up to brush over bare skin again.

After the third time he did this, Casey lost patience. "Dan," he said, and then realized he sounded as if he'd been running for hours. Swallowing, he started again. "You know what you're doing, right?"

Casey could feel Dan's grin against his skin, just above the bottom of his ribcage. "Mm-hmm."

"It is by any chance trying to kill me?"

Dan sat up, threw his head back and laughed. His shirt was still pulled askew, perfectly framing the line of his neck, and his lips were swollen. Casey sucked in a breath. "Danny."

Dan's laugh trailed off. He smiled down. One hand moved up the outside seam of Casey's pants. "Casey," he replied in the same tone. "I'm not really trying to kill you." His smile turned wicked. "Just make you suffer a little."

"By now, I think it's an established fact that I'm suffering."

Dan's eyes narrowed slightly and he nodded. "Probably." Dan's hand ran over Casey's hip, and Casey shamelessly twisted up against it.

"Dan." Casey groaned as Dan's fingers edged closer to his open fly. "Please," Casey begged through clenched teeth.

"You only had to ask," Dan said, squeezing his cock firmly.

"I did," Casey growled back.

"No, you didn't. You hinted." Dan pulled at Casey's slacks and Casey canted his hips up, helping Dan. "I want to hear you ask."

Casey let his head drop back onto his hand. "So you were just going to keep teasing until..." His whine was cut off by Dan tracing over the head of his cock through his boxers.

"I figured you'd eventually get desperate enough..."

"Desperate is a good word," Casey told the ceiling. "Oh, God, Danny."

Dan tugged Casey's boxers down and bent down to take Casey's cock into his mouth. Casey braced his feet on the floor to thrust up into Dan's mouth. "God," he said again. His free hand flailed around before he finally, carefully, rested it on Dan's head.

He wondered how he looked, mostly dressed and entirely disheveled, writhing on the floor of the men's restroom with his best friend's head between his legs. Then Dan did something with his hand at the base of Casey's cock, and Casey was suddenly far beyond caring.

Casey was learning a lot of new things tonight. Finding out that Dan took an almost sadistic pleasure in torturing him wasn't new. Finding out that Dan knew just how to make Casey's eyes roll back in his head was *very* new.

Dan had one hand wrapped around the base of Casey's cock and was moving his mouth up and down slowly, swirling his tongue over the head, and then moving down until he kissed his fist. His other hand was trailing down, whispering over Casey's balls and pressing against the sensitive skin behind them.

Casey bit his lip, trying not to yell when Dan started to move faster. Then Dan swallowed him deeper, and Casey had to thrust up, had to grab Dan's head roughly and just *pull*.

Control was an impossible idea, impossible with Dan's warm mouth around his cock, with Dan's strong hands on his hips, encouraging his thrusts. Impossible to think of anything other than *deeper* and *faster*.

And then impossible to think of anything at all, except holding onto Dan as he came.

When Casey's senses returned -- at least most of them, he still couldn't feel his feet -- he looked down to see Dan sprawled next to him, grinning like a fool. He reached out and ruffled his hair. "So, how're you feeling?"

Dan's expression sobered for one nerve-wracking moment. Then he grinned. "Are you asking if a blowjob took care of my panic attack?"

Casey felt his cheeks heat up. "Well..."

"And if I say yes, does that mean I get one every time I throw up?"

Casey blinked at Dan. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Dan looked at him innocently, smiling as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Why not?"

"It's positive reinforcement for..."

"Bad behavior?" Dan asked, sniggering.

"Not exactly," Casey paused, pressing a kiss against Dan's temple. "But it's hardly a good association."

"You're worried that I'll develop a Pavlovian reaction?" From the way Dan's lips were twitching, Casey knew he was trying hard not to laugh. "You think I'll start to find nausea a turn on?"

Casey shrugged, shifting against the hard tiles. "I'm pretty sure you just tried to suck my brain out of my dick. You can't expect me to make a lot of sense right now."

Dan gave up and started laughing. "I don't know who's crazier here, me or you."

"Just think of it as a meeting of the neuroses."

This sent Dan into another round of sniggers. When he was done, he leaned over to Casey, who was still smirking, and kissed him. Casey made a mental note to dig out the Tic-Tacs again.

"We should probably go back to work," he said reluctantly.

"I suppose."

They dragged each other up and started righting their clothes, a complicated process that involved Casey taking Dan's T-shirt when they remembered the damage to his. "I'll tell Monica I ran into someth--Danny, don't start laughing again!"

They double-checked each other, shared breath mints, and headed for the door. Casey stopped in mid-stride and grabbed Dan's arm.

Dan looked back. "What?"

"Dan--" Casey started, but his brain deserted him. He pulled Dan back to him and hugged him as tightly as he could manage.

After one startled second, Dan's arms came around him, too. "I'm okay," he said gruffly. "I'm okay."

"I know," Casey said. He pressed a desperate kiss against Dan's temple, feeling daring and out of his depth.

When Dan pulled back, he was smiling. "We'll be okay, too."


End file.
